


Scar Stories

by therune



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therune/pseuds/therune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>posted originally on aph-kink meme:<br/>"It's pretty much agreed on by most of the fandom that the nations all have some pretty gnarly scars, I was hoping for some background on these scars.</p>
<p>Bonus 1: Scars with unique shapes (stars, lightningbolts, maps of the london underground)<br/>Bonus 2: A character has a fake story that they tell about one of their scars to cover up the true (and very embarrassing) reason they got it.<br/>Bonus 3: Smut is always a bonus."</p>
<p>so far, I have unique shapes (sorta) and am *this* close to the smut. </p>
<p>Rome/Germania, swapping stories about scars. And Rome being Rome, it goes further than just talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scar Stories

The battle was won, but it had been bloody and many were dead.  
Rome had met with his centurios immediately afterwards in order to discuss further startegy. They'd rest here for a few days to regain their strength, repair armor and weapons and see to the wounded.  
Although it had been a victory, Rome didn't enjoy it as he had past victories. He wondered if it was him or the nature of war that had changed. It had been glorious once, when he had been strong and invincible. But these days he thought less of conquest and more of home, he thought about his little grandchildren and the other young children he had taken on.

As it got dark and torches were lit, and campfires spread all over the land, he sought out Germania. As always, his friend had been a sight to behold, fierce and magnificent. Rarely did Germania shed his stoic exterior, but when it happened, more often that not, it was in battle.  
His barbarian; he roared, he howled and he tore through his enemies. Yet there was strategy and calculation in his actions,, he was not reckless. Rome had never been that way when he was younger. Not that he was old, not that he looked old, but he knew that times had changed, and he with them.

Germania sat - as predicted - near a fire, alone with his face cast in shadow, the light licking at his features just so you couldn't make them out. And of course still clad in armor and cloak.  
"Lighten up, the battle is won, you don't have to scare my men, the enemy soldiers were frightened enough for both armies."  
"A battlefield is no place to let my guard down."  
"This is a field of victory, my friend, we triumphed today. You can relax; we're at the heart of the Roman army, arguably the safest place on this earth."  
"Arguably."  
Rome sat down heavily, offering a flask to Germania.  
"A little reminder of my vineyards?"  
"No, thanks."  
Rome sighed exasperatedly. "You don't drink in peace, you don't drink in war, was everything Tacitus wrote a lie?"  
"From his book you could assume that my people are as drunk as the day is long."  
"I've met your people and they are not as averse to wine as you are."  
"I'm not averse to wine, just his effects."  
"Safest place of the Roman empire."  
"I'm your bodyguard, remember? I couldn't do my job if I was inebriated."  
Rome smiled evilly. "Fine, I'll release you of your duty. I'll be hiring you again in the morning, though, so don't go too far."  
Germania cocked his head. "What is it with you and wine?"  
"It's not about the wine, it's about parties, about celebrations, life! I like living!"  
"Alright, but for your sake I hope there's more where this flask came from."

 

There was, indeed, and quite a few of them were emptied in the course of the evening.  
Germania had just taken off his armor, claiming it was too hot and uncomfortable. He sat there in a thin shirt and breeches, and Rome was too drunk not to stare.  
"My god, there's skin underneath that armor?"  
"Oh shut up."  
Rome clasped Germania's arm. "By god, skin. There's a Germania outside of the armor, oh you gody, I had not thought it possible."  
Germania punched him in the arm as thanks. It hurt quite a bit.  
Just as he was about to mock Germania or retaliate, Rome noticed something on Germania's arm. At first he had thought it was a play of the light, but it hadn't been.  
"What is that?" he asked and gently turned Germania's arm. On the side, from the root of the thumb almost to the elbow was a long white line, jagged in places.  
"It's a scar, you have plenty of your own."  
"Not one like this."  
"Are you sure?"  
Something glinted in Rome's eyes. "Let's play. What made this one?" He traced one of his fingers over the length of the scar.  
"A stag, almost scewered me when I was hunting once."  
"You killed it, naturally?"  
Germania grinned, and it was a terrifying, rare and exhilarating thing.  
"My turn." He held Rome's hands in his, turned his hands and Rome's with his. Like this, Rome's fingers, thick and warm, closed over Germania's hands. Rome's heart beat so loudly in his chest, he was surprised Germania couldn't hear.  
"What's this one?" Germania asked, indicating a small scar on the back of Rome's left hand. It looked almost like a crescent moon.  
"Ah. One of Carthage's man and a dagger. I still have the weapon somewhere."  
Reluctantly, Rome freed his hands and let them wander over Germania's arms.  
"Your elbow?"  
"Slipped when I was climbing a mountain, felt like I had smeared half of my arm onto the rock."  
Germania looked at his face. Then he raised a hand to touch Rome's chin and turned Rome's face to the left. "Near your ear?"  
"Egypt. She did not handle Greece well."  
"You mean you screwing Greece behind her back?"  
"Whatever."  
It was his turn again, and Rome asked himself if he could do it, if he could dare. But when not now, when then? When would he ever get a chance like this?  
"Your armor must take the brunt of every attack, I can barely see any more scars."  
He hoped, he hoped, and was rewarded.  
With a snort, Germania pulled off his shirt and quickly combed a hand through his hair.  
His hair. Rome could write songs about that hair. Had, in fact, written one during an orgy. Not one of his finer moments.  
Germania's face had grown red, and despite Rome wishing that it was him having that effect, he knew it was the wine.  
"Take your pick", Germania challenged, and how Rome rose to the occassion.  
He drank in Germania's torso - muscles like metal yet thin, like whips underneath his skin. And he noticed the scars, there were so many.  
Almost hesitantly, he'd later claim it was the wine and not his nerves, he reached out with trembling fingers, and touched the bare skin.  
It was like a small epiphany. Of course he knew Germania was warm, that he breathed, but he had never felt him do it. 'Play' he reminded himself. He traced a faint line on Germania's ribcage.  
"What caused this?"  
"Spear. Warrior from the North, that one. I had killed him before I even noticed I was bleeding."  
Rome's mouth went dry, so he quickly emptied his flask. Here goes nothing.  
He stripped off his own garment.  
Did he imagine, or did he hear Germania suck in a breath? In awe? Or terror?  
Whom was he kidding, Germania afraid of him? Never.  
Rustling snapped him out of it, Germania sidled closer. Rome saw him watching closely. Germania leant closer, and ran three fingers over a prominent scar on his ribcage.  
"An animal?"  
"Yes. In Africa, a giant cat, a panther, I think. Ferocious beast."  
From here, Rome could look down at Germania, something he'd never had before, never with him so close. He touched Germania's collarbone.  
"Foolish mistake when I first learned how to swing a sword."  
Another touch.  
"Hannibal tried. He failed."  
A touch.  
"Tribal unrest."  
A breath shared between them.  
Germania had his hand on Rome's side, nearly waist height.  
"Oh. I think that was you."  
Germania looked at him strangely. Rome didn't know whether it was hurt or surprise, pity or pride.  
"Did I leave any on you?" Rome asked. Germenia met his eyes, but Rome couldn't decipher what he saw. Wordless, Germania took one of Rome's hands and laid it on his own thigh - "arrow" he whispered. Then he took Rome's other one and pressed his palm to his chest.

Rome's world stopped for a second. It was as if Germania was fire, cast in flesh, impossibly hot under his touch. Sound vanished. And he swore that he could feel Germania's heartbeat, fast and strong underneath his palm. Rome loved Germania, of course. Germania was strong, proud and indomitable, everything Rome loved. But never before this moment had he looked so beautiful. Cast in light by the fire, his face flushed, lips parted just slightly, and his eyes - his eyes. They were so full of emotion, expressive. A weird mix of hurt, sadness and what Rome had no other choice but to call love. Rome sucked in a breath, and the world returned to its normal state. The brief tranquil moment was over, and he had no time to think.  
He leant closer, watching Germania. Would he flinch? Retreat? Punch his face in?  
But Germania let out a shaky breath and closed the distance between them.  
Gods, his mouth was searing. Rome moved his hand from Germania's chest to palm his face. Their kiss went on for an eternal moment. Lips locked, mouths moving, the faintest hint of stubble against his skin, a few strands of long hair that tickled his face. It ended too soon for his liking. Then he felt Germania's breath puff against his cheek.  
"Oh Rome, the things you do to me"  
"Germania, I- you are the most magnificent creature I ever met."  
"I bet you say that to all of them"  
"No one but you"

Germania pounced on him, knocking Rome to the ground. With both knees at each side of Rome's chest, arms braced next to his head and looking down at him, Germania's long hair fell down over his shoulder, and separated them from the rest of the world like a curtain.  
Rome looked up at Germania's face, and although this was not the first time he had been in this position, it was new altogether. Labored breaths moved Germania's whole body, face red, half-naked - that he was familiar with, usually accompanied by bruises, cuts and a lot of pain, but never had this air of closeness, of urgency been there. Germania seemed naked, stripped of all defenses. It was an unusual, humbling sight.

Rome raised a hand to caress Germania's cheek, and he leant into the touch.  
"You're gorgeous," Rome whispered, utterly sincere.  
"I've been called a lot of things, but never gorgeous"  
"Because no one really saw you, did they?"  
Germania looked into his eyes, pierced Rome with his stare.  
"No, they didn't"  
Oh Germania, you precious, you beautiful - Rome had read about that in books, had seen it with tribesmen, but never thought Germania could be, that Germania never had-  
"You're gorgeous," Rome repeated, "the most gorgeous man I have ever known"  
Gingerly he touched Germania's belt. Germania's breath hitched in his throat.  
"Only if it is alright with you," Rome stated calmly  
"Won't they see?"  
"The men? I don't think any man can match us when it comes to drinks." And he was right, in the night, with the fire almost burned down and the men celebrating victory, no one was paying attention to them, no one was able to.  
Rome searched with his other hand in the pile of discarded armor until he felt his cape under his fingertips. He dragged it out under the chestplate, bracers and weapons, and with a little bit of difficulty, threw it over Germania.  
Germania smiled and tugged it into place, obscuring them from view.  
Something inside of Rome tugged when he saw Germania in his colors, underneath his heavy red cloth. Red looked good on him; Rome's red especially. Rome imagined, them both back at his capitol, in his house, Germania sprawled out on Rome's flag and him making love to him, claiming him.


End file.
